


Lucid

by hyosgardens



Category: ONF (Band)
Genre: Dreamscapes, M/M, dedicated to wjc, dystopia vs utopia concept i guess?, i really don't know how to tag this lol sorry lads, minor mentions of injury, seungjun is lost, shifts in reality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:56:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29837064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyosgardens/pseuds/hyosgardens
Summary: Seungjun is stuck between a dream and a nightmare.
Relationships: Lee Seungjun | J-Us/Shim Jaeyoung | Wyatt
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12





	Lucid

**Author's Note:**

> hi i wrote this back in january but i had a conversation about raspberries this morning which reminded me of it and so i added another paragraph and a half and here we are

The first time Seungjun saw him, it was raining. The streets were a greasy grey, lit only by the matching yellows of the streetlamps and the convenience store. The city was a terrible place; desaturated and loveless. Nothing survived—nothing that mattered, at least. Plants shriveled and wilted in their pots, and no flowers grew on the hedges that lined the copper-toned streets. Humans were best left alone.

Yet this man—he had caught Seungjun's eye and _smiled._ In the bleak city that drowned in hopelessness and loss, there was a warmth in his features that shouldn't have been there. 

"Sir," he called. But the man disappeared. 

Seungjun's apartment was disgusting. Washed out and broken with a draft that came through the window next to his pitiful sofa. Its singular source of light came from a bulb that dangled from a wire at its center, only rivaled by the weak sunlight that appeared right before sunset. 

Jaeyoung laughed at him from the kitchen table. "Another dream of that place?"

"I am telling you it is real!" Seungjun huffed. "There is no color, it is so..."

"Lacking."

"Yes! And I keep seeing _you._ But we do not recognize one another."

"That is how we know it was a dream," Jaeyoung murmured, smiling fondly. He reached across the table and took hold of Seungjun's hand. His thumb ran delicately over the top of it. "I wouldn't forget you."

There was a stinging pain that overtook the warmth on the backs of his hands, making Seungjun's eyes fly open. He gasped, horrified as he lifted his head to meet the piercing gaze of his advisor. 

"Seungjun," his voice was dangerously soft as he pushed the stick he had used to mark the worker's hands underneath his chin, giving him a cold appraisal. "You know what we do with those who... _slack_ on the job."

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir."

"Are you?" The man removed the instrument, replacing it with a hand to grip Seungjun's collar as he dragged him to his feet. "My dear," he sneered, "do you know how many times you have been caught sleeping? In the past _two weeks?"_

Seungjun wet his lips. If he lost this job, it would be a good many months before he would be eligible for another. The work cycle ensured one stayed unemployed just long enough to remember the lingering feeling of hunger. 

He met the gaze of his advisor evenly. "I don't recall, sir."

"Don't recall what?" Jaeyoung asked. 

"I-" Seungjun breathed. They were in the garden. The sun was warm on his skin from where he lay, and Jaeyoung stood a few feet away, watering their hydrangeas. "What was I saying?"

Jaeyoung hummed, concerned. "Are you alright, my love? You have been dreaming of that place quite a lot recently." He came to kneel by his side, brushing his forehead with his hand. "You aren't sick, are you?"

Seungjun chuckled. "No, no. It is most likely fatigue." Yet he couldn’t shake the alarm he felt at what he had seen. He stood, taking Jaeyoung's hand for help. 

"Tea?"

"Yes please." 

He turned and a familiar burly man stood before him in the alleyway. He had smiled so sweetly that night, like the whisper of a pleasant memory. But the pang of longing that struck Seungjun now was not quite right. The tears that streaked down his face were for someone who wasn't there. Not for him, the man that stood across from him with a shadow that pooled in exhaustion on the dirty ground. But for something fleeting. 

Seungjun stung with foreign bruises, hands cut and bleeding. Eyelashes stuck together with his tears, sticky and uncomfortable. But he kept crying, wept as the other man made his way towards him, menacing in shape yet gentle in manner. 

His eyes kept flowing with tears of something tender, of a deeper, stranger ache that only broadened like rays of sun coming over the horizon as the stranger brushed the back of his hand against his forehead, shifting his dark bangs. 

“Are you alright?”

Seungjun chuckled wetly. “I don’t know.” 

Something in this moment felt like a memory, too. 

“I can’t tell if I’m dreaming.”


End file.
